


Till There Was You

by dreamydelite



Category: South Park
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Ballroom Dancing, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, basically we all like each other in this household, damien is a dumbass and doesn't know a thing about romance, everybody loves butters, everybody loves kyle, everybody loves tweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamydelite/pseuds/dreamydelite
Summary: Damien thought he finally moved on from the rough patches of his life.He moved away from his dad and got a job at the Wildflower Café, a shared business owned by Tweek and Clyde. An annual tradition of the café was a performance night every weekend! One day a well-known dance group offered to perform and sent in somebody to check the place out. Little did Damien know this would be the same person who would ruin his morning over peach jam.Another thing Damien didn't expect: those sappy Beatles songs actually making senseWhether that's a good thing or not is something Damien must decide for himself.





	1. Kenopsia

“So long and farewell, old man!”

Damien flipped off the vicinity of his new apartment space. It was small and cold. The heater wasn’t working. There’s only one bed and bath, and the kitchen is practically nonexistant. By the case of anybody’s standards, this place was awful.

 

But not for Damien.

 

No. For him, this place was perfect. It was exactly what he needed. Who cares if there’s barely any heat? He can wear sweaters (he prefers them honestly) and he has naturally high body temperature. The scuffed up ceiling and holes on the walls were purely ornamental. It’s not like Damien can’t cover it up with his outrageous rock posters or a tapestry. Even if the wifi is a little buggy, and there’s a couple warped floorboards that he sometimes trips on, and one of the mirrors is smudged to hell; the place has character.

The most important feature, however, is that Damien is _alone_. He’s officially on his own for the first time in his life. Let the record show that Damien was nothing more than ecstatic about his newfound independence.

He’s been living with his father everyday up until now. His mom died the day he was born and ever since it’s been Damien and Lucifer, two peas in a pod. For the first several years of his life, Damien was actually pretty well taken care of. His father was completely heartbroken over his wife’s passing, but that didn’t take away the love he had for the child they created together. Damien often hears how he has his mother’s eyes; a tantalizing dark amber that, if the light hits it in a certain way, it glows red.

 

Damien never knew how to react when he hears any comparison to himself about his mom. Over the years though, he would learn to gladly carry traits from a woman he barely knew over a man he spent too much time with.

 

His father started dating again around the time Damien was nine. It was at that age Damien learned just how _hopeless_ his dad was at romance. He couldn’t keep track just how many decisions his dad stressed over. Even the most simplest things, from what to wear and where to go to _“should I open the door for them before or after we say hello?”_

How Damien ever existed to begin with would always be a mystery left unsolved.

Around the age of 13, his dad got into an abusive relationship. It lasted a lot longer than Damien preferred and put an even bigger strain between him and his father. The lack of responsible role models at that tender age took a toll over how Damien viewed simple human communication and connection, which resulted in many angry fights and punched holes in the wall. Months of therapy was what brought the broken family of two together again, temperamental son and acquiescent dad. Eventually the man responsible for tearing them apart got arrested, and the two moved far away as possible. To this day, his dad still carries the scars; even if the physical ones are long gone.

 

His dad is single now and continues to carry only one priority above all else: his only son. Damien wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. Whenever he had an issue to deal with, his dad, for the most part, was not very helpful.

That isn’t to say he wasn’t trying. The problem was he tries _too_ much. That’s always been his biggest flaw. He overcompensates for absolutely no reason.

 

Damien got sick of it.

 

By the time he got out of college he immediately searched for the cheapest place to stay and bought it with his own money. He always lived comfortably; his dad was in charge of a major business that required them to move a lot, so money was never an issue for either of them. If anything, Damien wanted to prove he could do things by himself. He can be successful despite the faults everyone keeps telling him he has. He wanted to prove any self-righteous adult figure who looked down on him wrong and make something of himself. He was going to spite each and every single person who ever held a shred of doubt of him.

 

He breathed the dank scent of his rusty apartment. It was something he could get used to. He can get past all the flaws and tiny space as long as it was his own. He can do this. He will.

 

He unpacks a box for his bedroom. This room was decided to be a safe haven the moment he got his keys. There was only a bed, closet and window, but it was **_his_ **bed, closet and window. Not to be shared with anyone else.

While shuffling around the stationary supplies, he came across a photograph. Odd, considering all his photos have been taken out already. He picked up the photo and inspected it. It was of him as a toddler, being cradled by none other than his father. It was a decent baby picture of him and Lucy (that’s what Damien prefers to call him) couldn’t help but insist he take it with him. Damien didn’t argue or else he had to deal with his dad’s emotions again. He’s been going on and on over how _‘grown up’_ he was and _how the first step to adulthood is always intimidating_ and to _call him if anything happens_ and yadda yadda, etcetera etcetera.

 

Damien rolled his eyes over the recent memory, yet took one more glimpse of the photo. His dad looked so at ease. Damien can barely remember the last time his dad was truly happy or at peace.

 

He sighed deeply. Despite all his faults and tendencies to be embarrassing as fuck at all times, he was a good dad. _Is_ a good dad. Sure, he was too invasive for his liking and annoyed Damien to no end. But he always cherished his son over everything. He moved on from his wife’s death, got out of that horrible relationship, did a ton of research to make sure his own son wasn’t anything but happy and healthy. He set up those therapy sessions so he could heal alongside his son. He attended every band concert and soccer game, no matter how inconvenient or small it was.

He never once stopped to consider his own feelings.

 

“Good riddance.” Damien barked at the photograph. He placed it face down on his nightstand and continued to unpack his belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this is a fairly realistic setting I'm tryin to pull here, Damien and Satan/Lucifer are humanized in this story. if yall were hopin for cool magic demon powers, well I'm sorry to be a disappointment. that doesn't mean I won't make like a fuckton of references for that tho
> 
> this chapter is basically a set up for things to come! the father/son dynamic will be important and mentioned throughout the story so it's best to get that backstory outta the way now. more will be discussed about their past though, so this was just a wide generalization
> 
> the '20' is my best estimate for how many chapters this story will have but keep in mind that number may change
> 
> TTWY should be updated every week and feel free to scream with me at dreamymochapie.tumblr.com


	2. Welcome to Wildflower

“How’s the new place coming along?” Kenny sneered, leaning forward. “Can I come over again, sometime?”

“Absolutely not.” Damien backed away from Kenny’s invasion of personal space. “Are you gonna order something or do I have to force you to leave again?”

“Yeesh Chow Mein, that’s not very nice of you.” Kenny pouted.

“Ugh, quit calling me that.” Damien really had no idea how Kenny came up with that dang nickname. It was Kenny’s niche to call people anything except their actual names. Stan was Stanny Boi, Kyle was Freckles (on good days it was Gingersnap), Cartman was Chump and Butters was, well, Buttercup. Or Honey. Or Sweetie. Or Spring Dove. Or Angel face, Apple-of-my-eye, just about any sickly sweet name in existence. Butters had the so called privilege of having the most nicknames because he’s been Kenny’s main source of affection for years. Literal years. They're even planning on buying a house together. 

It’s another wonder of the world how they weren’t dating yet. 

 

“Why not? It’s a majority of your diet,” Kenny said, interrupting Damien’s line of thinking.

“That may be true, but that’s not how you pronounce the last half of my name, dumbfuck.” Damien had his own nickname for Kenny for moments like this. He usually doesn’t like swearing, but Kenny is a valid exception.

“You know you could work with me again if your funds get real low for you ‘cuz of your attitude.”

 

“That,” Damien flushed, “won’t be necessary.” 

Kenny works as a stripper some nights to provide for his family. None of them know about it, of course, but they do wonder how Kenny gets so much tips doing mechanical repair. One point during junior year of college, Damien was so desperate to pay off his student loans that he actually took Kenny’s offer. He did well, but after two nights of being ‘Black Velvet’ he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Suit yourself.” Kenny leaned back on his chair. “I’ll have an iced caramel macchiato with extra drizzle,” he rolled his R’s and finger gunned at his unimpressed server. 

“Will that be all?” Damien deadpanned, frowning at his friend. Kenny nodded and Damien went off to tell his coworker the order.

 

“He wasted my time for a macchiato again.”

 

“Oh come on, Damien, baristas are required to talk to people! It’s in the job description.” Clyde smirked while starting Kenny’s order.

“Why aren’t you the one taking orders for people? You’re much more social than me.”

“We both know the answer to that one, big guy.” Clyde pressed a button to steam the milk.

“He wanted it iced.” 

“Oh,” Clyde looked at the espresso machine in disdain, “fuck.”

Damien chuckled at his friend’s mistake “You see my point though, right?”

Clyde wasted no time fretting, getting another cup. Medium. That, at least, Kenny was consistent with. “Listen, I oughta get better at makin’ the drinks while _you_ improve actually socializing with the customers.” 

“But, why?” Damien whined while watching Clyde add two shots of espresso. “We both have our niches, don’t fix what isn’t broke.”

“Because,” Clyde smiled as he added the caramel drizzle, “the boss man likes for us to multitask,” he placed the finished drink on the countertop. “Don’t forget to wish him a nice day!”

Damien shook his head softly “I’ll say it was from you.” 

While he walked away he heard Clyde reply “See? You’re improving already!”

 

Damien scoffed in response. He really liked working here, even if it was a lot to handle sometimes. He found out about Tweek and Clyde’s shared business when Butters was advertising for them. Damien wasn’t sure if he was even going to get the job, since they seemed satisfied with their own set of employees, each in charge of their own tasks.

 

Tweek was the boss, maestro of all things caffeinated or otherwise. To keep him in check was Clyde’s job; the scrumptious pastries with savory fillings he bakes are an added bonus. Nichole’s detail-oriented mind was perfect for keeping ingredients stocked and making the space fresh and new every time you step inside. It was her idea to add fairy lights around the area and Tweek & Clyde were amazed they haven’t thought of that before. Kyle, the most recent addition before Damien entered the picture, was a whizz with numbers and following instructions. He was the OG ‘do everything’ guy. On top of keeping up with finances, he also provided the newest renovation for the cafe: a stage.

Kyle studied dance in secret while getting his degree in neuroscience. Tweek found out about it the brief period they were dating (it was mutually agreed they were better as friends) and encouraged him to perform. The whole crew had to rearrange the tables and chairs so the customers could watch Kyle perform. It was such a marvelous night for everyone involved, especially for Kyle. Customers the following night would praise him and ask if he would dance again in the near future. Eventually Tweek & Clyde’s cafe held a performance night every weekend, Kyle being the star every time. Plenty of people would come up and showcase talents of all kinds.

Jimmy, an old friend of Clyde and Tweek, frequently performs his stand-up routines whenever he gets the chance. Cartman would exaggeratedly sing any song from modern to vintage, the end result always having the entire place singing and up at their feet. The other side of the singing spectrum were Token and Kenny, as they were more suave or smooth. Token would also showcase his baton twirling skills, while Kenny enjoys more burlesque dance moves. Wendy’s slam poetry captures attention, her words holding the power to move someone from tears to laughter in mere seconds. Even Tweek would act monologues from countless plays, astonishing the audience with his performative brilliance. 

 

The stage was nothing more than a slightly raised platform with two speakers and some curtains, but it soon became a centerpiece for Tweek and Clyde’s success.

 

Damien thought it was hopeless to apply working there. Especially considering his track record wasn’t anything to be proud of at the time.

Nonetheless, Tweek found something for Damien to do, and Damien would forever be grateful for the man’s big heart.

His work ethic, however, would not be so easily matched. Damien still had ways to go before even reaching _Clyde's_ level of expertise, let alone Tweek's. 

 

“Your macchiato, sir,” Damien said in a monotone.

Kenny raised a brow at him. Damien turned around to see Clyde give him a thumbs up. Damien smiled halfway at him, then turned around and slammed his hands on the table, leaning forward to imitate what Kenny did to him earlier. He bared his teeth and spoke in the sweetest, fakest voice he could muster.

 

“Have a nice day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps roof of chapter* 
> 
> this baby can fit a whole lot of self indulgence!
> 
> if any of you were curious, [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cudk-kOQ7vM) would be where Black Velvet came from. it's really fun to imagine Damien actually trying to 'dance' this and be suave and getting sick of it immediately afterward.
> 
> we finally meet the wildflower gang!! i'm so excited to show yall their future interactions cuz those were easily some of my favorites.
> 
> also don't get used to the short chapters; the next one is like 10 pages long in my google doc jhghlky


	3. I Just Don't...

“Okay everyone, team meeting!” Tweek clapped his hands twice to get everyone’s attention.

 

“Let’s go!” Clyde was right beside him, ten times as enthusiastic.

The three employees walked up toward their People in Charge (it felt off-putting to refer to Tweek or Clyde as their boss), each with a varying degree of confusion.

“What’s the meeting for, guys?” Nichole being the most curious.

“Nothing bad happened, did it?” leave it to Kyle to start fretting over something as first instinct. He must have got it from Tweek.

“No! Not at all!” Tweek reassured proudly. Kyle instantly eased up, unknowingly matching Tweek’s excited vibe. 

“We got some rad news for y’all!” Clyde also matched Tweek’s demeanor, wrapping an arm around his friend. “We’re getting the Serendipities to dance for us next performing night!”

“The Serendipities are coming!?” Kyle and Nichole exclaimed at the same time.

“Yeah! Even better,” Tweek stepped forward and grabbed Kyle’s left and Nichole’s right hand, “they’re offering to teach us some of their moves so we could join them!”

 

Kyle and Nichole screamed in pure delight. This made Tweek scream, which in turn made Clyde scream. Soon they were all jumping around and yelling in celebration. 

Damien, meanwhile, had no clue what the heck was going on. He raised his arms and let out a weak “woohoo” to somewhat back in their enthusiasm.

 

“Oh Damien!” Clyde, ever the aware soul, noticed his friend missing out and explained “the Serendipities are a dance studio not so far from here.”

“Those guys are pros at all kinds of dance, particularly ballroom.” Kyle stepped in, unwilling to stop himself from going on a passionate tangent. “Any kind of social dance from all over the world! You name it, the tango, swing, cha cha, merengue, salsa, they got it all!”

“They’re really good at what they do, so it’s an honor for us that they wanna be here.” Clyde said. Damien nodded his head slowly to show he understood.

“The reason I’m telling you guys this now,” Tweek reigned in his audience once more, “is because we’re having one of their teachers come by tomorrow afternoon to check the place out!”

 

Kyle gasped so much he nearly fainted in Nichole’s arms. “Tomorrow!? We have to make sure everything looks its best! Did we clean up properly? Do _I_ clean up properly?”

“Kyle, everything looks fine,” Nichole pat his hair in attempt to soothe her friend, “ _we_ look fine! There’s no way that teacher’s gonna come in here and be anything short of amazed.”

“Yeah, don’t doubt our skills,” Clyde winked. Kyle relaxed a bit after that and stood up straighter, a look of determination on his face.

“When is the person coming tomorrow?” Damien asked. He couldn’t help but be curious now. The rest of his coworkers’ nervous energy was feeding into his own. It was crazy.

“They said it might be around five or six pm, so we might have to close a bit early.” Tweek answered.

 

Damien grinned at the thought. Three or four hours less of work never seemed like a bad deal.

“Alright, that’s all we wanted to say,” Clyde said. “Just be on your best behavior and everything will turn out fine.” Damien noticed Clyde glaring specifically at him when mentioning the behavior part and at Kyle when saying the ‘fine’ part. 

 

“Dismissed!” Tweek clapped, officially letting everyone off their merry way.

 

_________________________________________________________________

 

Damien shut the door of his apartment and leaned against it. It was a ten minute walk from home to get to work and there’s usually several people along the way. Damien doesn’t go out of his way to interact with anybody, but some situations were hopeless.

Tonight was one of those situations.

 

After leaving the cafe he was spotted by Stan and Craig. Those two usually wait around closing time for their respective significant others. Stan and Kyle usually leave earlier than Craig, since Tweek does last minute checks on everything before leaving. ‘ _Part of being in charge’_ Tweek would say, always with a tired smile on his face. 

Stan and Craig had a rough history together, but that could be far from the truth nowadays. They consider one another as brothers and treat each other as such. Craig dealt with Stan stealing his hat among other small pranks, while Stan was a master of deflecting Craig’s dry humor.

Damien got along fairly well with both of them, but he’s had a long day. He almost felt bad for turning down their offer for a night out, yet it shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore. Damien doesn’t make enough effort to spend time with people than deemed necessary. He doesn’t consider it a problem. He liked being alone, after all.

 

After escaping Stan and Craig, not so long after he came across the street performer that spray paints.

 

“You want a masterpiece, champ?” she’d always ask.

 

“No thanks.” Damien would always respond. Nevertheless, the painter would shrug and continue her work. And every time, Damien would stay. At least for one minute, so he can see the finished product. He can’t stand things being left unfinished.

The painter may not have been much for words, yet the increasing crowd watching her does.

“Oh my, how stunning!”

“Isn’t she brilliant?”

“Does she spray paint her hair that color?”

“How does she do that so easily!?”

Damien can’t help but get irritated at all the comments. Can’t they just stand there quietly and admire the process? It seemed to bother Damien more than the painter herself, he figured, for she would talk back.

“Why thank you!”

“Oh no, not really.”

“This happens to be my natural hair color, sir”

“I got bored and watched tutorials”

Damien felt exhausted just watching her tackle not only her artistic pieces but handle social conversation on top of it. Damien rarely says more than the usual lines at work unless it’s a really rude customer, a really nice customer, or Kenny. This painter, who’s known by the nickname Red, does not have to fit that criteria. She doesn’t _have_ to speak to anybody; yet she insists on asking strangers walking by how their day has been.

 

This simple act of human connection astonished Damien every time.

 

Before Damien reaches his floor, without fail, he comes across one of his neighbors. 

“Oh hello dear! Back from another hard working day?”

“Yes ma’am, and I’d really like to go home.”

“Oh yes yes, no trouble at all! As a matter of fact I’d best be going too!”

“You’re going the wrong way, Nellie.”

“Oh dear, am I?” Nellie looked around the hallway, adjusting her glasses.

“Here Nellie,” Damien offered his arm, “let’s get you home.”

“Oh my!” she gladly accepted his offer, which was absolutely _not_ endearing in the slightest, shut up. “How wonderfully kind of you, Demetri.”

“It’s Damien, ma’am.” Damien smirked for a second before realizing what he was doing.

“Oh I’m sorry dear, my memory’s been out of place recently.”

After safely escorting Nellie to her room and declining her offer for tea for the ten thousandth time, he trudged to his apartment, rightfully exhausted.

 

He ran a hand through his hair to pull himself together. He still had to eat.

He changed out of his working clothes then went straight toward the kitchen. The room was nothing more than the basics: a stove, microwave and fridge. There’s an island to pose as both a countertop and dining table. Damien opened his fridge and inwardly cringed over how empty it was. There were eggs, chocolate milk, butter, tupperware of leftovers his dad packed and cherries. 

He could never resist cherries.

Damien sighed and grabbed one of the tupperware boxes. It was pasta with alfredo, a true Thorne classic. Damien microwaved it for 2 minutes and 22 seconds, then chewed slowly. 

 

There was no TV or anything like that in his living room. He never watched it anyway so there was no point. Instead he had his vintage radio and record player. On good days he would put on a metal record, sit on his beanbag chair and drink cranberry juice. Some occasions he would read a book. Or graphic novels, to be more precise to his tastes. The comic panels make the story more engaging in his opinion.

 

Damien glanced over the black loveseat and sighed, unintentionally releasing tension from his shoulders. He insisted he would do just fine with the beanbags and coffee table for the living room because _“it was small anyways Lucy”_

His dad just waved the sentence off and asked _“but what if you have guests over?”_ Damien couldn’t argue that he wasn’t planning on having _anybody_ in his space, so the loveseat ended up in his living room. To be fair, that made the beanbag right next to the window in a corner, which made it the perfect spot for Damien to relax somewhere beside his bed. 

Leave it up to his own dad to give him something he didn’t want to instead bring him something he never knew he needed. 

Damien furrowed his brows, annoyed at himself for feeling this way. Since when did he get so sentimental over something as useless as a loveseat? He looked down and saw his tupperware empty. He ate all the pasta.

 

He washed his fork and tupperware then left it to dry. He checked his phone for the time. 11:42

 

Damien groaned at the ceiling. How did nearly two hours of his time after work pass by so quickly? _Nellie_ , he decided. That lady sure could chatter despite having her memory be ‘out of place’.

Nonetheless, he turned on his radio to get ready for bed. He brought it with him (it was portable) to the bathroom so he didn’t have to shower and brush his teeth in silence. In the midst of his routine, the DJ played a request, which just so happened to be a ballad.

 

_I don’t mind when you say you’re going away_

 

 _‘Oh’_ Damien realized _‘one of_ **_those_ ** _songs, huh?’_

Being a fan of the rock genre meant having to put up with some slow soft ballads from time to time. Damien didn’t necessarily have a problem with the slowness or softness of it all (it’s a good breather after all the hardcore guitar/drum solos). The real issue was the content.

 

Nearly every single ballad was about love, or how someone can’t live without love. Or how their love has done them wrong. Or how they can change for the sake of love. Or how love solves everybodys’ problems and all you need is love, love, _love_. After a while it gets repetitive, and more importantly, unrealistic.

Damien’s not as bitter about it as he was in the past but he couldn’t stand songs like that. They set up such high, impossible-to-reach expectations. And for what? What’s suppose to be the takeaway in all these songs? That in order to feel happy in life you have to be romantically involved with another person? Let that person walk all over you and forgive them because ‘ _your heart couldn’t stand the thought of them leaving?_ ’ It was all just so _dumb_. Damien vowed to never let himself end up like any of those dopey singers who made stupid decisions because ‘love’ couldn’t make them think properly. 

 

_I don’t care if you share only moments of a day_

 

Damien rolled his eyes before spitting toothpaste into the sink. He can handle this sort of thing occasionally. He’s not as bitter as he used to be. He’s seen prime examples of love going just fine from his friends and coworkers. 

Besides, this was a rock station. A banger will arrive sooner rather than later.

Damien was washing his face when he heard the next line,

 

_I just don’t want to be lonely_

 

He shot up quickly, his whole body rigid. His shoulders tensed, his hands stopping midair, still slick with water. Every muscle was aching all over his body, forbidding him from moving a single inch. What? What’s going on? Damien couldn’t determine the reason behind his strange reaction. Water was dripping from his face as he stood completely still, listening to the song more closely.

 

_I’d rather be loved and needed_

_Depended on to give a love I can’t give_

 

He stayed frozen until the end of the verse, his senses gathering enough to finally dry his face with a towel.

 

This song... was not what he was expecting. It sounded like an oldie, but why was it giving him such tangled feelings of nostalgia? He doesn’t remember hearing it before. The only solution he could wrack in his brain was his dad playing it when he was young and it just stuck in his subconscious.

 

Yeah. That had to be it. There was absolutely no other reason for it. The rush of emotion he was struggling to understand could only come from a long forgotten memory. 

 

Maybe Nellie was rubbing off on him. 

Damien changed into his pajamas and took the radio into his bedroom. He _could_ change the station. He really wanted to. But his mind and body wouldn’t allow it. For some ungodly reason, his need to finish things included catatonic-inducing love ballads.

 

_I don’t mind when the time sets the sun to the moon_

 

Damien set up his alarm to wake up early for work tomorrow. He placed his phone next to the radio. The easy-flowing music began to ease his tension more than he’d like to admit. He lied back-down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

_I just don’t want to be lonely_

 

He winced.

 

_Let the stairs find you there at the end of the room_

 

Damien risked one more peek at his nightstand. The radio was still there, along with his phone. The phone, however, was on top of one final item. 

 

_I just don’t want to be lonely_

 

He reached for the item and grabbed it. It was the photo he placed when he first moved in.

 

_I’d rather be loved and needed_

 

A photo of him and his dad.

 

_Depended on to give a love I can’t give_

 

He suddenly remembered another fact about the photo. This picture was taken the day before his parent’s wedding anniversary.

 

_When you’re gone, when you’re gone_

 

Damien slammed the photo haphazardly back on the nightstand and turned away from it. It was starting to burn. His fingertips were hot from touching it.

 

_I just don’t want to be lonely_

 

He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes. His room was pitch black, darkness enveloping the atmosphere. He can’t even see the jutting outlines of his door. 

Drifting thoughts of the photograph burned in his mind’s eye. The peaceful face of his father from the photo transformed into a scrunched up expression, trying to hold back tears. Damien blinked his eyes rapidly to get that out of his head. He absent-mindedly touched his neck, where a small pentagram necklace resided. It wasn’t much and was out of the way. The metal has rusted from years of use. It was the only surviving item he got from his mom. He closed his eyes one more time, forcing every thought related to his parents out of his head.

Instead, his dark empty room was the last image he saw before drifting to sleep.

 

_I’d just rather be loved_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a2j_F9CtPQk) the song damien was listening to
> 
> coming up with a dance group name shouldn't have been so difficult but kjhgfhjk  
> red n nellie finally showed up!! these two are gonna be a hoot so watch out for 'em in future chapters ;3


	4. Sleeping Alone before Peaches

Damien didn’t sleep well that night.

 

He stared at the ceiling, frustrated upon seeing he awoke 3 hours earlier than his alarm. This wouldn’t be the first time this has happened. Damien was cursed with the talent of being a light sleeper, and his sleep schedule has been inconsistent for all his life. His dad’s job required them to travel, so Damien never had the luxury of getting comfortable within a particular timezone for longer than six months.

Now that he’s on his own and has a job with shifts, he took it upon himself to be prepared. There was an alarm set up every 8 am so Damien could have breakfast and relax for a bit before heading to his 10 am shift. 

His body, however, needed more time to catch up with his mind, so Damien often found himself awake earlier than he’d like to be and asleep later. 

He closed his eyes after glaring at the ceiling nonblinking for a solid minute. Tweek gave him some advice on how to tackle insomnia-like symptoms when setting up shifts once Damien got hired. The tips came unprompted but Damien took notes nonetheless.

One of Tweek’s tips was to make his eyes tired. 

Damien blinked his eyes rapidly, relieved that the advice was working this time. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave and next thing he knew, it was 7:30 pm.

 

 _‘ Wow, an hour more than last time_ ’ Damien thought.

He stretched his arms, cracking some bones in his shoulders. He let them flop before turning to his radio. It was turned off from the first time Damien woke up. He couldn’t believe he let the battery run like that. What a waste. 

Alas, the record player was all the way in the living room and Damien didn’t want to make the effort of walking ten steps over there. 

He turned his radio on.

 

_Sleeping all alone is alright_

_Cause I'll be with you tomorrow night_

 

Sun Parade. Perfect! He was still on his favorite station, which piqued his energy quite a plenty. He stumbled out of bed to brush his teeth and put on civilian clothes. He carried the radio to the kitchen and placed it on the countertop. He rummaged the cabinets for a knife and plate. He was planning on making one of his favorite breakfasts: toast with peach jam and chocolate milk. It might seem childish, but really who freaking cares? Chocolate milk is delicious and carries plenty of nutrients. 

Cherry jam, however, was Damien’s absolute favorite. Unfortunately, none of the nearby grocery stores carry jam of the cherry variety, so he settled with the next best thing. And that was peach.

While toasting one slice of bread, Damien opened the cabinet containing all his jams and spices he barely uses. A sense of dread poured over him when he noticed only one (1) jar of jam left.

 

It was **empty**.

 

He grabbed the jar and inspected it in despair. How could it be empty? Did he really hate himself that much to put empty jam jars back in the cabinet instead of in the trash where it belongs?

It was then that a vision crossed his mind.

 

_“Help yourself Kenny, I’m going to change.”_

 

_“Alrighty, compadre!”_

 

That’s right. Two nights ago he invited Kenny over to fix the refrigerator light. His apartment may not be in its best shape, but Damien drew the line over his food getting spoiled. He wanted to be a slightly decent host so he offered Kenny food as payment.

“ _He_ did this,” Damien hissed, “the total nerve of that guy.”

Did Kenny eat all the jam and put it back as a joke? A prank for some good laughs? Some lovely chuckles? As if a couple wonderful guffaws was going to bring his peach jam back. This is serious business. Kenny was going to pay.

 

Damien angrily ate his uncovered toast and grabbed his wallet to make an emergency trip to the grocery store. 

 

___________________________________________

 

Whole Foods was not crowded for once. Then again, it was around 8 am. Not a lot of people would be grocery shopping this early. Damien tries to avoid giant stores like this whenever he can; he’d much rather be in some other small convenience store where the cashiers are allowed to sit down. Unfortunately, Whole Foods is the only place miles around where he could get quality peach jam. Or any jam really. Why must the popular spreads be anything but fruit related?

Damien put aside the agonizing thought when he reached his section. Aisle 8. Condiments. 

He speed-walked to where the jams are all placed and found precisely what he was looking for. Organic Peach Jam from ‘Tegridy Farms'. Damien smiled upon seeing that there was only one jar left. He could already taste the peach-flavored toast when he reached for the sweet ambrosia.

 

Two hands grabbed the jar.

Only one of them belonged to Damien.

 

Apparently he was so laser focused on tasting jam he failed to notice another person make haste for the same thing. He followed the arm of the other person and stopped when he saw their face. 

Now, Damien was not one to judge another’s appearance, but this person was absolutely _breathtaking_. Two resplendent blue eyes stared right back at Damien’s distant umber. Damien thought he’s seen some impressive eyes from Tweek’s heterochromic mossy green and golden brown, or Kenny’s deep blue that could easily be mistaken as violet. But this stranger’s eyes matched the sea on a bright morning, subtle waves crashing upon the glistening soft sunlight. It was swimmingly blue, yet strikingly green at the same time. Was it possible to have two colors in one eye? In any case, Damien was mesmerized.

 

“Oh, pardon me.” What kind of voice was that? Is that an accent? Was this person new in town? They’re definitely not from around here. The lithe voice did shake Damien out of his trance. “I suppose we went for the same thing, didn’t we?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” was Damien’s intelligent answer. 

“It’s such a lovely season for peach, isn’t it?” 

“Um, I guess?” 

“Although I usually go for peach year-round, but summer is the best time for them!”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm! May is the beginning of peach season and it goes on until late September, but the months of July and August is at its peak-” 

The stranger continued to ramble but Damien stopped listening. He was still thrown off by this person’s luminating aura, but that doesn’t change the fact they were after his peach jam. 

“You know this _is_ the last jar, right?”

“I’m quite aware of that,” the stranger smiled. Damien couldn’t tell for the life of him if it was polite or not. “They’ll probably restock later today.”

Damien couldn’t help but laugh. He most certainly did _not_ have time to wait all day. “Yeah okay, that might be true,” he slowly pulled the jam toward his direction, “but I don’t got all day.”

“Is that so?” the stranger forcefully stopped Damien’s pulling, a sweet smile still on their face. “Well, unlucky for me, but I also don’t have time to dilly-dally.”

“What?” Damien was so thrown off by this person’s vocabulary he missed the jar being pulled away from him. “Hey!” he stopped it before it could get any farther.

“I really don’t have time for this.” The stranger’s tone shifted. They were still polite, yet there was a warning. Akin to a mother about to lecture her child if they kept misbehaving. 

Damien didn’t like that.

“Haha! Whaddya know, neither do I!” Damien yanked the jar more abruptly, surprising the stranger enough to loosen their grip. Almost. 

“Excuse me, let’s not get hasty here.” The stranger put off the polite tone and was just straight accusatory. “I’m sure there’s a compromise we could reach.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that.” Damien’s sarcastic tone got the better of him. He was genuinely intrigued but was still aggravated by the situation he got into. 

“You give me the jar today and come back tomorrow!” the stranger swiftly pulled the jar to their side, shocking Damien enough to nearly let go. Nearly. 

“Okay, this is ridiculous.” Damien’s patience was running thin. “Come on man, I don’t have any jam at home and this,” he forced the jar to his side, “happens to be the only one I eat.”

“The only one?” the stranger seemed appalled at the idea. “Perhaps you should expand your horizons, it could do you some good,” they dragged the jar to their side.

 

And the tug of war continued..

 

“I already know what’s good for me and it’s not you.” _Pull._

“Are you trying to be unreasonable?” _Drag._

“I’m _trying_ to have a decent breakfast and you’re not helping.” _Force._

“Forgive me but I’ve been doing nothing but trying to resolve this.”

“Save it, blondie, the only person you’re helping is yourself.”

“Maybe if you weren’t being such a whiny bastard this would go a lot more fucking smoothly.”

“You kiss your _mother_ with that mouth!?” Damien gasped offendedly, scraping the jar to his side.

“Oh, and I’ll be kissing her plenty more once you let go!” the jar dragged loudly to their side.

“No! You let go!” 

“Absolutely not!” 

“Just give me the jar!”

“Hell no!”

“Hell _yes_!” Damien stepped forward and accidentally stepped on the stranger’s shoe.

“Ow! Real mature!”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it,” Damien softly reassured. The stranger knit their brows together in confusion. Which meant they were distracted. “Sike!” he claimed the jar out of reach and turned away, “Success!”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” the stranger reached for the jam and it was at this moment Damien knew he fucked up. It has now just occurred to him that he was shorter than this person. Playing keepaway wasn’t going to work. He needed a new tactic.

On instinct, he used his free arm to shove the person away. They almost fell on their behind, yet they managed to balance themselves, albeit in an odd position. The look on their face was pure fury. 

 

“You want to fucking tussle?”

“Hell yeah, let’s tussle.” Damien mocked their accent. 

 

That appeared to be the final straw.

They used their height to grab the jar from above. Which wasn’t fair; Damien only had one arm to defend himself. He ducked and managed to escape. He was about to run when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt. He got pulled back so forcefully and unexpectedly, he raised his hands up on impulse.

 

Thus letting go of the jar. 

 

The jar fell in slow motion, both he and the other person simply watching the damage being done, helpless to do anything to stop it. The jar broke into pieces, shards spreading all over the ground, the jam following as if they were partners in crime. Damien stood up straighter once his shirt was released. 

It was a devastating blow, both for the jam and their dignity. Damien shared a look with the stranger that could only be described as shame.

 

For about three seconds.

 

“I can’t believe this,” the stranger sounded tired, “if you weren’t being so difficult, none of this would have happened.”

“Hold on, are you saying this is _my_ fault?” Damien growled.

“It’s both our faults, you lummox,” the stranger sniped back. “Since neither of us could come to an agreement, now none of us are having peach tonight.” They surveyed the broken jar once more, their expression nothing short of disappointment. 

Damien took a deep breath. Now that he has more time to process the situation, he _was_ being a little harsh. Maybe they can still work this out-

“I’m going to pay, while you clean this up.” Oh for the love of-

“Who said _you_ were paying?”

“Don’t make this wearisome.”

“No, what if _I_ wanted to pay, huh? You think you can get out of cleaning duty when you literally admitted to this being _both_ our faults.”

“It was just a suggestion, calm down!”

 

Oh. Oh no. Oh _hell_ no.

 _Nobody_ tells Damien to calm down. Any time some poor soul uses those two words, he will do anything except what the words suggest.

He nearly hyperventilated when starting his sentence.

“Oh! Hah! Hah, well your _suggestion_ sucks!” he used air quotes to make a point just how much it sucked. “I don’t need anybody telling me how to fix my own problems! I can take care of all this by myself," he pointed a finger at them, "without _your_ help!”

“Fine!” they threw their hands up in defeat. “Be that way then! Have fun cleaning _and_ paying, I hope you have a swell time!” they stomped away, steam rising out of their head. 

“Good riddance!” Damien yelled at their back. “I hope we never see each other again!”

“That makes two of us!” they said defiantly before going to another aisle. Or out of the store. Really, Damien couldn’t care less.

He flipped them off for good measure. He took a couple deep breaths to recollect some sense of reason. He peered down at the shards of glass mingling with sticky jam.

Damien facepalmed, leaving a pink mark on his forehead. Maybe he should have swallowed his pride. Now he had a lot more work to do.

  
____________________________________________

 

“Okay Damien, this is the third time you messed up an order. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I’m fine, Kyle.”

Damien didn’t bother telling anyone about the disastrous morning he had. All he said was _“I wasn’t able to have breakfast”_ which was an overall pitiful summary of how things have gone for him. 

Clyde offered him a lemon poppy muffin, which Damien happily accepted. He scarfed down the whole thing in three bites, uncaring how improper he might have looked. He was hungry, goddammit, let him have some savory peace.

The ‘peach jam incident’ still weighed heavily on Damien’s mind, which was distracting him from following simple instructions. He was told to sweep the break room but he misheard it as ‘bathroom’ and confused Tweek when he has supposedly finished really fast. Later on, a customer wanted a decaf cappuccino but Damien missed the word ‘decaf’ when telling the order to Kyle. Another customer wanted almond milk but got coconut milk instead. That mistake was more fortuitous, since the customer ended up preferring coconut milk anyhow. 

The last order Damien messed up was Jimmy’s, which was a telltale sign something was wrong. Jimmy usually ordered the same thing, a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles. The recipe for hot chocolate usually didn’t call for sprinkles, but Jimmy was a regular who enjoyed it so much he got the beverage named after him: Hot Chocolate with Jimmies.

 

To mess up such a simple and signature order was what persuaded Kyle over. Damien was usually not this lousy with orders. Something was up and Kyle was going to figure out what. 

“Damien, you forgot to mention sprinkles for Jimmy’s drink. Sprinkles are what makes it Jimmy’s drink!”

“I know,” Damien groaned, “that was my bad, I should have just said Jimmy’s drink but I didn’t because I’m an idiot.”

“Hey.” Kyle grabbed Damien by the face. He was shorter than Damien, so he had to reach up an awkward angle. It still captured his attention, so Kyle continued. “Don’t call yourself that. It was a simple mistake and no harm was done.” Kyle squished Damien’s face slightly. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, yeah?”

For a moment, Damien was scared Kyle might be psychic. It was almost as if he knew exactly what happened at the grocery store, even though he knew that was silly. Still, Damien unclenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders, relaxing.

“Thanks Kyle.” He threw in a small smile for good measure. Kyle smiled back and released his face, giving Damien’s shoulders a little shake. 

“Do you need a break or something?” Kyle picked up Jimmy’s drink, with sprinkles this time. “I’m sure Clyde would let you go for a couple minutes to clear your head.”

“No thanks.” Damien already spent the rest of his time before work wallowing. He didn’t need to bring that to his work environment. “Let me apologize to Jimmy at least, it’ll make me feel better.”

“Alright then,” Kyle handed over the drink and waved him off, “off you go.”

Damien chuckled for a moment before heading to Jimmy’s direction.

 

“Here you go. Sorry for messing it up.”

“Don’t wo- don’t worry about it!” Jimmy reassured.

“Yeah, you seemed a little under the weather so we understand.” Token and Jimmy usually hang around the cafe to chat. They also like to catch up with Clyde and joke around with the other employees during their breaks.

“Thanks. I think.” How under the weather did he look? He made sure no glass or jam remains were on him when he left. It could be the bags under his eyes, but that was a feature people should be used to by now.

 

“Hey guys!” 

They all look up when they hear Tweek coming, his lips tilted upward into a warm smile as his eyes settle on Token and Jimmy. Damien glances at them to see the same smile mirrored on both their faces.  Jimmy lifts a hand to wave at Tweek as he approaches. 

Tweek’s eyes shift to Damien, and his smile is no less friendly. “Hello, Damien!”

His smile is infectious. Damien practically beams. “Hey, Tweek.”

“How do you do?” Token tipped his hat in a suave manner.

“I’m glad to see you’re all here,” Tweek giggled at Token’s demeanor. He shared a fist bump with Jimmy before turning to Damien. “Just wanted to let you know the Serendipity person is coming here in five minutes.”

“Oh shoot, so soon?” Damien whipped his head to peek at the clock hanging next to the menus. It read 5:23 pm.

“Yup! I just have to tell Nichole and we’ll be all set.”

“What’s the plan, chief?” Token asked.

“We’re just gonna let them look around the place and answer any questions they might have.” Tweek leaned forward and stole Token’s hat to put on his head. “And of course we’ll ask if they want anything, half off perhaps,” he tipped the hat toward Token, who responded with a hand over his heart, the other hand fanning himself.

“Sounds like a- like a- hmm, sounds good to me!” Jimmy nodded at his friends’ playful actions.

 

“Already!?” the group swerved to see the surprised voice belonging to Nichole. She was holding her head in amazement while Kyle was nodding and jumping repeatedly. 

“Looks like you don’t need to tell Nichole anymore.” Damien quipped. Token and Jimmy laughed while Tweek shook his head fondly.

“I should have known he was going to spill.” Tweek took off Token’s hat and placed it on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy ‘oohed’ while sliding the brim across like a cool detective. Token flicked the brim, ruining Jimmy’s cool hat placement. 

“Should I go calm them down?” Damien said.

“Nah, it’s easier to let them get all that energy out.” Tweek smirked.

“Hah!” Damien exclaimed in amusement.

“Trust me,” Token said while putting his own hat back on his head, “it’s better off for everybody if we just let ‘em squeal in peace.”

“I never thought I’d hear the word ‘squeal’ ever come out of your mouth so seriously.”

“I can.” Jimmy remarked. 

 

The bell hanging above the door chimed, indicating a person walked inside.

Everyone turned to see who it was. Faces ranged from excitement to curiosity to wonder. Damien was an outlier, for his face was utter dread.

 

The gleaming blue-green eyes found their way to his gaze. Those eyes widened in shock.

Yup, there was no doubt about it. Those are the same eyes that ruined Damien’s morning, all the while taking his breath away. Only difference is instead of amazement, it was dismay.

 

“Ah, fiddlesticks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qsLu2VXsCM) the song damien was listening to in the beginning and slightly inspired this chapter title
> 
> OHOOHOHHOO IT WAS ABOUT TIME A CERTAIN SOMEONE SHOWED UP HUH? Writing the peach jam scene was so much fun, even though i feel like i could always improve on it
> 
> also shoutout to token and jimmy for simply being the best boyos


	5. Nowhere to Run

“Hello! Welcome to the Wildflower cafe!” Tweek greeted.

 

The two looming eyes piercing through Damien’s turned to focus on Tweek, the darkness immediately disintegrating.

“Greetings!" God, even their voice was still plummy, if not more so. "Are you the owner of this establishment?”

 

“That’s right!” Tweek gestured toward Clyde behind the counter. “And so is he!”

Despite all that’s going on, Damien can’t help but smile thoughtfully. Tweek always gets so excited when introducing Clyde as his business partner. They’ve worked together for eight years and it seems that Tweek will never get tired of being amazed over how far they’ve gone. It was really charming.

“Hey!” Clyde waved. He was rearranging the pastries so he couldn’t walk up to them yet.

“Oh, how delightful!” the stranger also got struck by Tweek and Clyde’s arrow. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m Tweek and he’s Clyde!” Tweek nearly squinted from his smile getting so wide.

“Hello! I’m Phillip, but my friends call me Pip.”

“Alright, Pip!” Clyde took the initiative. “Wanna look around?” he waved his arm to gesture the whole room. 

“Yes, please!” Pip accepted Tweek’s offered arm and was happily escorted. 

 

‘ _ So. The person who ultimately ruined my day is named Pip, huh?’ _ Damien clenched his jaw at the thought. 

“Hey dude, ya good?” Token’s concerned voice brought Damien back to reality. He didn’t even realize his knuckles were turning white from grasping the broomstick so hard. A couple more seconds and he could have broke it. 

“Oh, I’m cool. I’m cooler than cool, even.”

“Are you ice cold?” Jimmy followed along, smirking.

“Alright.” Damien smiled back.

“Alright.” 

“Alright.” Token grinned in amusement.

 

_______________________________________________________________

 

“So what are your schedules like?” Kyle got introduced to Pip only ten minutes ago, yet instead of Pip learning how the cafe works, it’s Kyle inquiring about Pip’s workspace. “How many hours a week do you guys rehearse?”

“It depends.” Pip was more than happy to answer Kyle’s questions. It was obvious the more they spoke how passionate they were about the subject. “Some dances are more difficult than others or involve more technique, so those require a bit more practice.”

“How many people are there in the studio?” Nichole, who was passing through after refilling the espresso beans, also let her mind wander. “Are they all gonna be here for performance night?”

“Oh no,” Pip said distraught, “you wouldn’t want that many of us here.”

Kyle rested a chin on his hand while Nichole sat next to him and leaned on his shoulder. There were stars in their eyes. Pip couldn’t resist.

“If I remember correctly there are twenty- no, thirty people in Serendipity, but only five or six of us are going to be here.”

“Who are they?” Kyle asked.

“Well I know Estella’s going to join.” Pip smiled softly. He counted the rest with his fingers. “Also Gregory. Esther perhaps, which means Kevin might also go. David-”

“Wait what!?” Kyle perked up. “David?”

“You know him?” Pip brightened up as well. “David Rodriguez?”

Kyle gasped excitedly “Yes! Yeah I know him! We used to be dance partners!”

 

Both Kyle and Pip held hands and talked rapidly. Nichole watched both in amusement and fear. Her wide-eyed look screams  _ ‘well this is happening right now I guess’ _

Damien caught her gaze and shrugged helplessly at her. She shrugged back, understanding.

 

“That jerk,” Kyle said without a trace of malice, “you know he invited me over one time and I  _ ‘somehow’  _ found baby Jesus or something which meant I had to cook tamales for his entire family when they came over to my house.”

“Oh no!” Pip laughed. “Surely, he didn’t mean it.”

“Uh, yeah, turns out he did.” Kyle’s lips tightened nervously at the memory. His poor mother that day. Gerald even went out of his way to get her a spa discount ticket the day after. “What an asshole! I miss him.”

“Well, I think he would be delighted to see you again, that’s for sure.” Pip’s eyes softened. “Although, I do feel like I’m forgetting something?”

“How’s everything going over here?” Clyde asked, leaning on the back of Nichole’s chair.

“Just great.” Nichole held out an OK sign with her hand. 

“Oh yes, I’m having such a swell time.” Pip agreed.

“Glad to hear it!” Clyde opened his arms before placing them on his hips. “Would any one of you like anything?” 

Kyle and Pip shook their heads, Nichole had a thoughtful expression. 

“Could you just get me a hazelnut iced coffee?” she said softly. “Nothin’ special, just add hazelnut.” 

 

“You got it.” Clyde winked before heading to the counter where Damien now resided. “You heard what she wanted?”

“Hazelnut ice.” Damien confirmed. A simple beverage he learned how to make on his first day of training. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks man. I gotta take care of some stuff so _ I’ll be back _ .” Clyde said in an awful Arnold Shwarzenagger impression. 

“Wait, then who’s going to serve this?” Damien ignored making fun of the horrid accent.

“You will? Just go around the counter dude, I believe in you.”

Damien gulped. “Okay.”

 

Clyde finger gunned at him before going out back.  Damien got started on the beverage, pouring the hazelnut syrup slowly. After three pumps of the hazelnut he carefully crept to the other side to pour the iced coffee as staggeringly slow as he possibly could.

He was stalling and he knew it.

He tried to do some extra work; wipe the counter, refill the ice box, restock the milk,  _ anything  _ to avoid going near Pip.

When he was introduced a while ago he didn’t say anything. Just made a mad dash to the restroom. 

Might seem pathetic, but what else was he suppose to do?  _ Talk  _ to him? Make rational conversation? Impossible. Unnecessary. Practically uncalled for. There’s no way he’s going to interact with Pip in a positive way. If anything, Damien was over the moon when Kyle ended up taking a majority of Pip’s attention. 

Damien risked a few sly looks at the conversation, turning away everytime Pip’s eyes were glowing blue, his smile being genuine. That wasn’t the same look Damien got when they were trying to ‘compromise’ over peach jam.

 

No matter. The coffee was done. He couldn’t avoid this any longer. Clyde hasn’t come back yet, so Damien’s the one who has to serve the beverage. In Pip’s vicinity.

Damien really had no way to go about this. Either way he’s going to look like a coward that can’t handle even sharing the dude’s air. He has no choice. And Nichole was waiting.

The worry now fizzes in the centre of him like an alka-seltzer. The panic is like a headache building up. Damien spent so much time thinking over how to serve the coffee, how quick he should be about it, if he should say something, that eventually he didn’t have to do anything.

He tripped on a loose tile, which caused him to spill the coffee.

 

All over Pip.

 

Damien froze, a deer in headlights watching the event before him in slowed time. The coffee spilled over Pip’s torso, making him stand up. This lead to Kyle and Nichole standing as well, even though the damage was already done.

It was the worst case of deja vu Damien felt in a long time.

Jimmy and Token ‘oohed’ in sympathy, as if watching the comic-relief character embarrass themselves in a generic romcom.

Tweek was with them, taking in a breath, his hand covering his mouth.

 

Oh no. everyone was staring at him. Except for Pip, who was busy inspecting his wet clothes. It was up to Damien to salvage this. Which was a horrible decision, really. 

 

“Whoops, my bad.” He mentally facepalmed. He couldn’t sound less sincere if he tried. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation has rendered common sense out the window.

This, of course, frustrated Pip.

“What is your problem?” It was a fair question to ask. But Damien couldn’t recognize that. He was too busy focusing on Pip’s changed demeanor, his exasperated tone. Those eyes narrowed, losing its former shine when looking right at Damien. The venom burned deep in Damien’s being, making him retaliate.

“It was an accident, get over it!” Damien is currently handling the situation with a grace of a limping hippo.

“Get over it?” Pip’s shoulders rose. “This was my favorite shirt! It’s going to take me days to possibly get the stain out!”

“Here’s some advice.” Damien squinted back, his voice chipped. “Next time don’t wear white in a coffee shop. That’s practically asking for disaster to happen!”

Pip was about to retort, possibly swear like the rude boy he is, but Tweek rushed in and stood between them, his hands on both their chests to separate them. Kyle and Nichole also followed suit and comforted the person they were nearest: Nichole with Damien, Kyle with Pip.

 

“That’s enough!” Tweek declared. Kyle’s hands were on Pip’s shoulders, Nichole hugging Damien from behind. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Tweek lowered his hands, Pip and Damien now a safe distance from each other. “I’ll make the new order,” he said to Pip, “and you’re going to help Clyde out back,” he said to Damien. 

Damien knew he couldn’t back down to the steel gaze of green and brown. He picked up the now empty coffee cup, shuffling in defeat. He could sense everyone’s eyes boring into him, especially a certain blue.

 

Tweek looked between them and noticed the tension crackling in the air. Ever the peaceholder, he wanted to dissolve the sparks before they ignited. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” Pip’s voice was light. “Simple mistake anyone could have made.” 

It was clear that Pip wasn’t convinced with what he was saying.

“I wish there was something I could do.” 

Pip raised a brow. “Well,” he started thoughtfully, “perhaps there’s something we can arrange.”

Tweek tilted his head, curious to what Pip could be thinking.

 

_________________________________________

 

“Thank you for inviting me here,” Pip said, holding Tweek’s hands with his own, “I’m sure everyone’s going to love performing here when the time comes.” 

“No problem!” Tweek flashed a toothy grin. Clyde, Kyle, Nichole and Damien were in a line behind Tweek as Pip was near the door. Tweek let go of Pip’s hands as Kyle stepped forward.

“When you see David could you tell him that Kyle says hi and that he loves him?”

“Oh! _That's_  it!” Pip perked up, as if remembering something he’s forgotten. “It’s funny you mention that.”

Kyle tilted his head while Pip searched his pockets. He ‘ah’ed when he found what he was looking for. A piece of paper. It must be a note. He met Kyle halfway and gave it to him. “Silly me for forgetting such a thing. David told me to give this to you.”

Kyle blinked at Pip, then the note, then Pip again. He smiled “thanks.”

Pip hummed with content. Damien grimaced at the display. He knew the moment Pip turns to his direction, he’ll get a completely different attitude. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow to start on lessons.” Pip scanned the line before him, stopping at Damien. “As long as some conditions are met.” 

 

The line of people turned to look at each other. Each were as clueless as the next. They all turned to Clyde, who responded with an ‘I don’t know’ noise. Everyone then looked at Tweek, who sauntered next to Pip.

“We made an agreement about the lessons so everyone could be at ease.” Tweek phrased carefully. 

“I have decided that it should be mandatory for every employee to participate on performance night. Whether or not you’ll want to rehearse is up to you. It would be beneficial to do so if not to embarrass yourselves if you don’t know what you’re doing.” Pip levelled his gaze, Damien catching the little upturned corner of his mouth directed specifically at  _ him _ .

“Would that be acceptable for everyone? I know it’s usually optional for us to participate in our event.” Tweek was oblivious about the provocation being made at Damien’s expense.

Everyone else responded with glee. 

“Acceptable? Um, heck yeah this is gonna be awesome!” Kyle raised a fist in the air.

“I’d love to!” Nichole beamed.

"Would that be _up your alley_ , Clyde?" Tweek says flatly, almost like a warning but also filled with a deep kind of exasperation that can only come from knowing someone for years.

“This isn’t just _up my alley_ , dear Tweek, it’s traveled all the way down the alley, through my front door, and is sitting on my couch.” Clyde continued coolly, “Now I can show off my sick moves.” He proceeded to moonwalk. It was actually the correct way to moonwalk, so naturally Kyle and Nichole were encouraging him.

Tweek and Pip both looked at Damien, the last to answer. Tweek’s gaze was filled with worry, Pip’s held a challenge. Damien knew Pip would be blatantly smirking right now if he could. 

_ ‘Bring it on you son of a gun’ _ Damien narrowed his eyes. He stepped forward and gave the widest smile he possibly could. 

 

“That would be just  _ peachy _ .” 

 

The fire that burned in Pip’s clear gaze was the highlight of Damien’s entire day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSFsAQjHJLI) the chapter title is based off of cuz damien really just can't escape messing up around pip and if that honestly ain't the biggest mood
> 
> tweek n clyde have worked together for years and the 'alley' thing is an inside joke  
> .... no i will not explain further
> 
> as for the note david wrote i'll leave that up for interpretation. he and kyle used to be dance partners but they still talk so he knew kyle would be working in Wildflower. heck david might even be the person who suggested performing there in the first place! who knows! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	6. 'Cuz there's a hole where your heart lies

“Damien, my office. Now please.”

 

The cafe ‘ooh’ed like schoolchildren. 

“Somebody’s in trouble~” Jimmy crooned.

Damien followed Tweek to his office and only nodded slightly when Clyde told him “don’t worry, you’re not in actual serious trouble.”

 

Despite the reassurance, Damien couldn’t ease his nerves. It didn’t take much to make Tweek upset, but Damien felt guilty everytime those multi-colored earthy eyes gazed at him with sorrow of any kind.

Tweek’s office was actually a lounge/break room for all the employees to chill; a desk resides in the corner that rightfully belongs to Tweek though. Damien glanced at the nameplate written ‘Fucker in Charge’ and felt some weight fall off his shoulders. He remembered the day Clyde gave Tweek that nameplate as a joke for his birthday. Tweek was horrified upon receiving it, yet eventually got a kick out of it. Damien didn’t expect Tweek to keep it, but at the same time he should have expected it. This was Tweek, after all. He always gets sentimental about gifts, even if they originally were a joke. 

 

“Damien,” Tweek started, his tone firm yet gentle, “what happened today?”

When Damien realized that was not a rhetorical question, hinted by Tweek’s awaiting expression, panic seeped through his veins. 

Looking back and evaluating the day made him recognize just how big of an asshole he was. Especially without the context of the jam incident. That coffee spill definitely could have been handled with more tact. He winced at the thought of Kyle getting along so well with Pip. What if he thought he was antagonizing him for no reason? Or Nichole? That was her beverage that got caught in the crossfire. Damien hopes she doesn’t think he used her drink as means of revenge or something tacky like that. It wouldn’t be fair to get her involved like that. 

Damien locked eyes with Tweek. “I don’t know.”

Tweek slumped his shoulders. “Are you sure about that?”

Damien looked away from the penetrating stare. His silence made Tweek take a deep breath.

“I hate to say this, Damien.” _Oh no_. “But I just want you to know.” _Know what? He’s not going to get fired is he?_ “I’m not mad.” _No! That’s even worse! Don’t finish that sentence oh please have mercy_. “Just disappointed.”

Great, now Damien was a real monster. 

He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. He knew he had to say something, anything to make Tweek not watch him so pitifully. 

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much. But it was honest.

A warm sensation spread across his shoulder, prompting him to look up and see Tweek’s hand on his shoulder, a caring expression on his face. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think _I’m_ the one you oughta be saying that to.”

Damien flopped his arms on his lap. “I know.”

Tweek leaned back, sitting on top of his desk. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Damien sighed, knowing honesty is the best route to take for now. “Probably not.” He gritted his teeth, confessing “I kind of don’t want to.”

“Is there a reason for this Damien?” Tweek said in a leveled tone.

Damien proceeded to tell Tweek everything. Everything. About how he woke up early, how he ran out of jam, the first time he met Pip and what happened afterward. He even spilled about the coffee incident being nothing more than an accident, and his temper getting the better of him. Tweek listened with wide eyes, nodding every once in a while to show he was listening. 

“I’ll admit that I was being a jerk,” Damien concluded, “but he was also kind of a jerk too.” 

“I see.” Tweek got off his desk and held out his hand. Damien took it and Tweek helped him stand. They shared an opiatic moment, intensely looking each other in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out. Tweek’s eyes were waving from that open door, always welcoming visitors into the humble abode that is his soul. Damien’s eyes were more ambiguous, curiosity overcoming anxiety as he allows himself to pry into Tweek’s home and in turn, show a rare instance of vulnerability.

 

Damien smiled softly. Tweek returned it tenfold before finally saying,

 

“You still need to apologize to him though.”

Damien’s small smile turned into a deep frown in lightning speed. “What.”

“Listen I may not know Pip as well as you do, but I can sense that he’s a good guy. I’m sure if you tell him how you felt he would understand.”

Damien wasn’t so enthralled about that observation, but he wasn’t one to doubt Tweek. He may have good intentions, but it was going to take a lot more than a genuine apology to soothe Pip’s feisty nerves. 

“I’ll try my best,” was all Damien could say.

Tweek crossed his arms and raised a brow, no doubt channeling his inner Clyde since that was his infamous pose. “Who knows? Maybe after all this blows over you two could become good friends?” he nudged Damien’s side “or something else altogether?”

It was almost endearing of Tweek to assume Pip would want anything to do with Damien, especially in the ‘something else’ way he was implying. Damien waved the suggestion off. “Don’t get your hopes up. I still gotta apologize to him first.”

Tweek punched Damien’s arm with excited flair. “Now that’s the spirit!”

Damien held his arm while exhaling audibly in pain. Tweek really needed to learn his ‘playful punches’ was going to put someone in an arm cast one of these days. 

 

__________________________________________________

 

“So let me get this right,” Red said while painting over two bottle caps, “you’ve been pissy all day because of _jam?_ ” 

“When you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous doesn’t it.” Damien really had no idea why he told Red anything. Maybe after confessing to Tweek he was less tense than ever, his body light and free of drudge. When he walked past Red working on another masterpiece, her “how’s it goin’?” was actually answered for once. Damien didn’t go over every detail as he had with Tweek (he left out the coffee spilling to save face) but he was definitely specific over who was responsible for his horrid day. 

Red wasn’t as attentive to his rant as Tweek was, but her small noises of confirmation indicated she was listening. “I don’t know what to tell you dude,” she picked up the bottle caps, creating two moons glistening among dark space, “maybe you should have just given him the jar.”

“But,” Damien muttered, finding a reasonable way to say this, “it was the last one.” He crossed his arms. “And I was hungry.”

“Ah hah!” Red mused at him knowingly. “Tis always hunger that makes even the most sane man turn completely feral.”

“We didn’t go feral.”

“You fought over a jam jar at 8 in the morning.”

“.... touche.” 

“Besides,” Red picked up a turquoise spray can and gave it a good shake, “you said he was a dancer, right? Chances are you tell him how elegant he looks or you can tell how much effort he put into a certain move and he’ll be swooning over you in no time.”

“How can you be so sure, huh? You a dancer too?”

“No,” Red stopped painting to look Damien in the eyes, “but I’m dating one.”

“ _What!?_ ”

“Hah! The look on your face dude,” she resumed her work. “Priceless.”

“You? You’re dating someone? As in? You have a significant other? That you’re romantically involved with??” Damien’s brain was short circuiting. Never in a million years did he think Red would be involved with anyone, especially in a _romantic_ way. That involved things like _feelings_ and _emotions_ and _communication_  and all that sappy stuff. It was more likely for Hell to start freezing over before Red would actively even hold hands with someone else. 

“I’m not sure about _significant other_ ,” she used air quotes, “cuz’ that takes too long to say so I just use ess oh instead.”

“Ess oh.” Damien loosened his arms, stating the words as if its a make-believe creature a scientologist would try to convince him exists.

“Mmhmm,” Red smirked, “he’s probably waiting for me at home right now.”

“At home!?” Damien held out his arms in shock, “you live with another person in an actual _home_?” 

“Yeah dude, oh my gosh.” Red laughed, clearly finding Damien’s reactions hilarious. “What, did you think I was homeless or something?”

“Uhhh.” Damien let his honesty streak get the better of him.

“Dude, please don’t tell me you thought I slept on a bench or something.”

“Nooooo _oooooo_?” his pitch shifted to a higher octave. He thought Red was smart enough to at least sneak into a gym or bus station where she could somewhat sleep in comfort.

“Wow.” She shook her head at him, amazed. “I can’t wait to tell Kevin about this.”

“Kevin? That your, um, ess oh?”

“Yup!” a corner of her mouth shifted upward. “He and Esther are going to adore this story.”

“Esther?” now why did that name sound familiar?

“She’s his twin sister.” Red explained while packing up her supplies, her piece finally dry. “They’re both dancers for the record and lemme tell you, they are the _bomb_ ,” she wagged a finger, “and I’m not just saying that cuz I know ‘em really well. They are really dope dancers.” She zipped her luggage full of spray cans and one giant blanket, her spot now a regular street corner. “There are plenty of videos of them online if you wanna check ‘em out. If you want.”

 

Damien didn’t think he had enough energy to search videos of people dancing, but it was rare to see Red so passionate about something, no matter how subtle she thinks she was trying to be. 

“Sure, I’ll bite.” Damien pulled out his phone, tapping the Memo option. “What do I gotta look up.”

“Stoley Twins of Serendipity. Their 2015 performance was the best in my opinion.” 

But Damien couldn’t hear her anymore. He was too caught up on ‘Serendipity’, his mind echoing the word. _That’s_ why Esther’s name was familiar. That’s one of the people Pip mentioned were attending performance night. What were the other people he brought up? A Stella? Gregorio? No, that doesn’t sound right.

“Twas fun chattin’ with ya, my man.” Red didn’t seem to notice Damien’s inner turmoil. Or she just didn’t care. “But I gotta get going.” She turned to begin walking away until she stopped and looked back. “Hey.”

That got Damien’s attention back, mostly because she punched him on the shoulder. It was the same one Tweek hit, but thankfully she was more delicate. “Don’t worry so much over this Pip dude, alright? Just be nice to him for once and he’ll be impressed by your mushy charming side.” A little smirk appeared on her face again. 

Damien matched her expression and nodded once. He didn’t need to say anything. Red always seems to get the point. 

 

_______________________________________________

 

As if on cue, the minute Damien steps into his apartment building, he finds Nellie checking her mailbox. She was having a hard time inserting her key into the keyhole. 

 _‘Walk away Damien, you don’t need to get involved_ ’ he told himself while walking directly to Nellie’s direction because he never listens to himself anyways. 

“Oh, Dynamite! Hello!” she said, still struggling with her key. 

“Hey Nellie,” Damien greeted back in a flat tone, “need some help with that?”

“Oh, I’ve got it,” she replied, clearly not getting it. 

Damien watched her struggle for several minutes with a raised brow. Nellie eventually dropped her arms in defeat and gave Damien her key.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she smiled sweetly. 

Damien smirked back and opened her mailbox with ease. There was a tiny cardboard box inside, and two envelopes. 

“Ooh, it has arrived!” Nellie reached for the box, disregarding the envelopes.

“What about the-”

“Junk mail,” she said with finality. “Let’s go!”

Damien made sure to check she was right before closing her mailbox and locking it. He sneaked a peek at his own mailbox but didn’t make any move toward it. 

There was probably junk in there too.

He hurried to Nellie’s side and tried to give her key back.

“How was your day, dear?” she inquired.

“Awful.” was all Damien could say. He didn’t want to retell his story a third time, lest the honesty streak he has going screwed himself over with an old lady. 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she sympathized, “at least there’s always tomorrow.”

“What’s in the box?” Damien figured a change of topic was in order, his curiosity taking over when she gave her box a teeny shake. 

“Sewing supplies, dear. Just some yarn and few needles, but it’s exactly what I need to finish my creation.”

“And what would that be?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you _that_ dear.” She playfully ‘zipped’ her mouth closed and threw away the key. 

“Aww.” Damien made an attempt to sound upset, but he couldn’t do that so well when Nellie was practically vibrating with delight. 

“In a matter of time, you’ll know. The best things in life come to those who wait patiently, after all.” She pat him firmly on the back.

Damien had to keep track how many times he was getting hit today. He would not be surprised if he woke up the next morning covered in bruises. “Here’re your keys, by the way.” He held the aforementioned item in the air.

“Thank you very much, dear.” She plucked the key from his hand. “You really are the sweetest thing.”

“No I’m not,” Damien denied, guilt washing over him, “I was a jerk today, you wouldn’t have liked me very much.”

“Hmm.” Nellie tapped her chin, gazing at the ceiling for a thoughtful moment. “Nope! Sorry, can’t picture myself disliking you for a bit.” She giggled upon noticing how flustered Damien looked, with his mouth agape and red cheeks. “Don’t look so nervous, dear. Everyone has bad days.”

“But I- I lost my temper at someone over peach jam, Nellie.”

“Peach jam?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t my most appealing moment.”

“Oh honey,” she lightly touched his shoulder, “if jam is what you want, why don’t you just come to me!”

“Excuse me?” 

“Why yes! I always have fresh jam in my pantry,” she leaned over and stage-whispered, “it’s made from my sister’s garden, so I always get it for free!” she winked playfully. 

“Wow,” Damien said in awe, “that must be nice.”

“Why do you look so down, dear?” she chuckled, “you are more than welcome to have some!”

“I couldn’t-” Damien began before Nellie stepped in front of him and gave him a serious™ look.

“Donovan,” she started, “what- what’s so funny?”

Damien tried to hold in laughter, his face scrunched up behind his hand. Hearing Nellie call him Clyde’s _last name_ of all things with her lip pouting and eyebrows furrowed was the funniest thing he ever witnessed. 

“No- uh, it’s nothing,” he scoffed “go ahead, you were- you were saying.”

NellIe pushed her glasses up. “What I was _trying_ to say is, I have plenty more jam than I can eat and you are more than welcome to come by and ask for any flavor you want.” Her expression became more sincere. “I trust you, Dino, and I would consider it the highlight of my day if you ever came by.”

 

Damien was, in every sense of the word, stunned. His body stood still, his mouth kept opening and closing, trying to form words, though no sound could escape his throat. Hearing this sweet old lady say that she trusted him, actually honest-to-god trust _him_ of all people, punched him right in the gut, rendering himself speechless. His heart loudly rang in his head, telling him all kinds of warnings to ‘ _stay away’_ and ‘ _don’t fall for it_ ’. He wanted to move, or do, or say something coherent, like a regular decent person would when interacting with another human being, but he was still frozen solid. 

He shut his mouth and took a deep breath. His exhale was shaky. He’ll dwell on that later.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much. But it was honest.

The words tumbled out his mouth swiftfully and quietly, yet for Nellie it may have been the most profound thing he’s ever declared.

 

“Anytime dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e67laA_11NM) chapter title is based off of bc yes i really am gonna be *that* musical bitch
> 
> i made myself laugh twice while editing this chapter so please enjoy the two (2) genius lines of comedic genius i added in there


	7. "I can feel you near me.."

“Ballroom dance is an art that consists of two people and can be enjoyed either socially,” Pip held out a hand, “or as a competition,” he held out the other. “That’s the general idea, but over the years the definition and terminology of ballroom has changed quite a bit.”

 

Pip arrived at 9 pm when the cafe was going through its closing procedures. Clyde and Kyle greeted him warmly; Tweek told him to set up however he wanted to, which didn’t really require much. Only three tables and its set of chairs were moved to the side so the workers could form a line and have some space in front of the raised stage. Damien and Nichole were washing the dishes so they were the last to meet Pip. 

Nichole regarded Pip kindly while Damien said nothing. He wasn’t sure how to go about the situation with Pip just yet. In retrospect he shouldn’t have much to worry about. 

Everyone welcomed Damien the same way they usually do when he walked in this morning. There were no hard feelings, even if Kyle and Nichole jokingly made spilling gestures at him on occasion. Clyde and Tweek did their own thing the majority of the day, although every once in a while Tweek would give Damien a knowing glance. Damien figured that he was reminding him about their conversation last night, motivating Damien to actually move on and do the right thing, which was apologize to Pip. 

For the rest of the day when he wasn’t busy, Damien would rehearse how that conversation would go. He eventually felt calm enough to know most of what to say as soon as Pip walked through the door….

 

Until he saw him onstage.

 

His plan crumbled to dust.

Those eyes continued take his breath away. Pip was also wearing a hat on top of his short undercut hair. It looked worn and raggedy, but it suited him. His outfit was also more fancier than the T-shirt he wore yesterday. He even had a bowtie, god damn it.

“The waltz, one of my favorites, originated in England.” Pip has been talking for Gods know how long. Damien couldn’t bring himself to pay attention, the history of ballroom going in one ear and out the other.

“Hey Pip,” Kyle spoke up, bringing Damien out of his reverie, “Why don’t you tell us the _real_ origins of all ballroom, hmm?”

Kyle had a mischievous smirk on his face, which would usually make Damien wary, but that feeling was replaced with confusion. Why did the origins of ballroom matter so much? He turned to the direction Kyle was looking at and quirked a brow. 

His eyes landed on Pip, whose face was agitated, his lips pressed in a fine line. He looked as if a joke was being played in him. _Interesting_. 

“The-” Pip took a breath, “the origins of ballroom has been speculated to be from _France_ ,” he gritted his teeth at the name. 

Kyle’s smirk widened and Damien’s interest was piqued. “Good thing Christophe isn’t here, huh Pip?”

“Sod off, Kyle.”

Kyle chuckled in response, but Damien didn’t miss the amused glint in Pip’s eyes. 

_‘So the British dude has a vendetta against France, how typical’_ Damien’s grin grew more wicked. He absolutely could not resist.

 

“Oh mercy me, those _Frenchians_ don’t know the difference between cheap _baguettes_ and only the _finest_ cuisine the world has to offer, which are _teatime_ **crumpets**.” Damien mocked in a low voice. Kyle was the only one who heard him, proven by him exhaling air out of his nose. Damien took this as the encouragement it was. 

“Tis a good thing England is so cultured and refined, you can tell since we do nothing but praise the queen and drive on the wrong side of the road.” 

Kyle was desperately trying to hide his smile, the back of his hand covering his mouth. He was facing Pip’s direction and trying oh so hard to listen to the lesson, but Damien leaned in to whisper in his ear. “What a shame we live in the colonies, huh _Kale?'_  

Kyle cracked after that. His loud laughter overtook the entire cafe, catching everyone’s attention. It wasn’t often that Kyle laughed this hard, yet it was a pleasant surprise everytime. It’s the kind that bubbles out your throat and bares a person’s soul. It might not be the prettiest laugh, but it was infectious. Nichole and Tweek giggled despite themselves, while Pip carried a puzzled expression.

“Not to worry,” Damien continued the obnoxious mock accent, “Good ol’ chap is just having himself a jolly tilly.”

“Oh my god, what the fuck Damien.” Nichole burst into snorts, holding onto Kyle while he was bent at the waist, hands on his knees, still bubbling with laughter. 

“Dude, holy shit did you hear that?” Clyde was beaming like mad, wrapping an arm around Tweek to keep himself balanced. Tweek was smiling, but it grew nervous as he noticed Pip’s demeanor. 

Pip was, in short, the epitome of displeased. 

“What’s the matter, good fellow?” Damien turned his posh accent down several notches, looking directly at Pip’s eyes. “Can dish it out but can’t take it?”

 

Pip’s eyes lit aflame, the same exact way it did yesterday. He narrowed them, his shoulders rising at the challenge being thrown at him. He stepped down from the platform and marched towards Damien.

He held direct eye contact with Pip, hearing the laughter subside in the background. The closer Pip came, the more Damien’s alarm sirens were going off. He pissed him off again, but Damien couldn’t bring himself to care when his heart was beating incredibly fast. The fiery eyes got even closer and Damien knew if he inched away, he lost. Never mind the fact that he was starting to sweat and his palms were getting moist. He was going to stand his ground. 

Pip stopped a foot away from Damien, his narrowed gaze unwavering. Damien gulped, yet kept his face serious. He really hoped Pip couldn’t sense the nerves growing more intense. The fact that he was even nervous to begin with didn’t make sense. Damien doesn’t get intimidated. Ever. He has only  been genuinely terrified by two people his entire life, and he had very good reason for both. 

He barely knows Pip, yet the crashing waves of his ocean eyes were making Damien’s palms sweat. 

 

“Come on upstage,” Pip demanded in a leveled tone, no room for argument. “You’ll be my first volunteer.” 

 

The line beside them ‘ooh’ed loudly as Pip turned around and strutted toward the stage. 

“Dang Damien, so much for me being first.” Kyle’s smile was still wide, no longer slouching but leaning into Nichole’s hold. 

“Haha, you made him mad.” Nichole’s tone was teasing.

“Good luck makin’ a fool of yourself, lamow.” Clyde smirked, trying to say ‘lmao’ out loud like the dweeb he is. 

Tweek didn’t say anything, his concerned gaze palpable. Of all the people Damien responds to, he chose to reassure Tweek.

“Don’t worry, what’s the worst he’s gonna do? It’s ballroom dance, I’m not going to embarrass myself.”

  
___________________________________________________  
  


Turns out there was a lot Pip could do when it came to ballroom dance.

 

And Damien did end up embarrassing himself. _A lot_. So much more than he could ever admit or even imagine.

 

Who knew there were so many _rules_ for ballroom dance. And these rules changed for different dances. And there were _so. many. dances._ Damien couldn’t keep track of them all when Pip was listing them off while holding him in a closed hold position. 

It took Damien a while to get used to someone being in his personal space for longer than ten seconds. Thankfully, Pip was not a total menace, as he often stepped off stage to correct a position other people were doing. While he was lecturing, Damien noticed just how… at _ease_ everyone seemed to be. Kyle and Nichole partnered up, and they were already good friends to begin with. They handled the intimacy of a standard hold position remarkably. 

Tweek and Clyde had more trouble with the steps and such, but there was no bad blood between them. Clyde practically lives for physical affection, and Tweek knowing him for so long has gotten used to having Clyde in his space. Every screw-up they had, one of them would be quick to say ‘no problem’ or ‘don’t worry about it, let’s try again’. Clyde would play off Tweek’s anxieties and make him laugh. Tweek would reassure Clyde with soft words and warm eyes. They trusted each other completely, wholly, unconditionally. 

 

This strangled Damien’s gut in a way he didn’t want to know why.

 

Damien kept telling himself to get a grip, to just do the dance moves and get it all over with, but every single time Pip invades his space with those shimmering eyes, his resolve shatters.

It also does not help when Pip occasionally removes the smug smirk on his face and is genuinely trying to be helpful. His eyes crinkle in a way Damien recognizes as a look he shares with people he actually likes and that does things to him. Damien was battling a constant tug-of-war with himself; wanting Pip’s eyes to soften whenever he smirked or for him to arrogantly grin when his expression falls. He wasn’t sure which one he wanted more. The internal conflict spurring in his mindspace continued when Pip returned to him on the stage.

“The last thing we’ll do is something everyone’s familiar with,” Pip mimics falling over, an arm swooping over his head, “the classic dip.”

“Heck yeah!” Nichole pumped a fist in the air. Clyde and Tweek smiled at each other.

“What if we’ve already been doing that, though?” Clyde demonstrated, lowering Tweek’s body yet still having a firm hold on him. Tweek giggled and played along, holding a hand over his forehead and sighing dramatically. 

“Then you shouldn’t have much to worry about when I teach you how to do it properly.” Pip grinned at their antics. Having that smile be so close to Damien’s general vicinity made him turn away, paying more attention to Clyde bringing Tweek upright.

Both held curious facial expressions, Tweek frowning with his brows furrowed, Clyde with a single brow raised. 

“There’s a _proper_ way to do it?” Clyde asked. 

“Of course! There’s a different dip for each dance. I’m just going to show you the standard way to do it, though obviously you folks can dip however you like.” 

Pip held out his arm, indicating that Damien join in the hold position. He does, stepping forward cautiously as Pip wraps an arm around his back and pulls him closer. Damien pursed his lips while Pip turned to see the two pairs copy them.

“Alright, the important thing here is balance,” Pip extended his other hand, arm bent, for Damien to hold on to. He takes it, frowning at the floor while doing so. “Those of you who are the base, hold on to your partner in a way you’ll know you can’t drop them. There are many grips you can do, but for now just converse with your partner.”

While the pairs talked amongst themselves, Pip let go of their held hands and put a finger under Damien’s chin, tilting his head up to look him in the eye. “Okay, let’s just do this one last move and we can get out of each other’s hair.”

Damien grimaced. Could the man ever talk regularly? In any case, he was _more_ than happy to get this lesson done and over with. Dips are usually an easy move to pull off, from what he can tell. Not even someone as rigid as him could screw it up.

“Oh, joy.” he deadpans.

“You know, everyone else is having a good time, why can’t you?”

“Because I have the most know-it-all teacher in the world?”

“I’m just trying to do my job, the least you could do is follow along.”

“Man, this sucks,” Damien let go of their hold, “why are there so many guidelines for this, it’s _dance_ , isn’t this suppose to be freeing or rejuvenating or whatever.”

“You’re thinking of other genres of dance. What I’m teaching is ballroom and that’s how it’s always been, Damien,” Pip tried to keep a steady tone, “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time but nobody does this sort of thing perfectly on the first try.”

“Thanks for assuming this was my first time.”

“Is it not?”

“Well. I mean, _yeah_. But that’s beside the point-”

“Damien.” Clyde called, a much more serious tone than Damien’s used to hearing from him. “Don’t be difficult.”

Tweek’s face was nervous beside him, watching Damien and Pip’s back and forth. 

Damien’s gut twisted with shame; embarrassment flushed all over his face. He bit his bottom lip to restrain from making an even bigger fool of himself. He quickly passed over Kyle and Nichole’s concerned gazes, then glared at Pip. 

At least Pip had the nerve to be taken aback by his stare. Damien put one hand on Pip’s shoulder while grabbing Pip’s hand with his other. Pip took the hint and resumed the close hold, clearing his throat before lecturing.

“Now for the flyers, all you have to do is follow your base’s lead, like so.” Pip bent down at the waist slowly. Damien lowered, fighting the urge to look anywhere but at Pip’s concentrated gaze. 

 

Pip continued lowering until he was almost bent at a 90 degree angle, Damien’s nerve panicking. He didn’t like this. The closeness of it all. It made him dizzy. There was nothing stopping Pip from just straight up dropping Damien on his ass and getting the last laugh. Damien’s legs began to wobble, unused to this new position he’s in. He can hear small chuckling at a distance, mostly Nichole and Tweek as they’re also being dipped as well. He saw out the corner of his eye Kyle upholding a fake serious expression, eyes closed and lips outward. He wasn’t dipping Nichole nearly as low as Pip was doing. Damien also caught Clyde and Tweek, their joined hands releasing to hold their arms out, Clyde’s other arm firmly wrapped around Tweek’s back. Their outstretched arms did jazz hands and Damien smirked beside himself. 

 

At least somebody was having fun. 

“Damien.” Pip’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. This indirectly forced Damien to look at Pip’s eyes once more and he was instantly caught in those waves. “You’re doing great.” The corners of Pip’s mouth went up and Damien almost choked. Not just because he’s actually nervous as hell to be face to face with Pip after the several fiascos he's made such a big deal of, but because holy fuck Pip's voice. It’s not the voice he’s come to know. It’s not filled with exasperation or irritation. It’s not dry or sarcastic or mocking. It doesn’t have that angry edge or that underlying amusement. He sounds pleasant and genuinely _kind_. He sounds nice, and… and goodness gracious, Damien was not expecting that.

He looked so _sincere_ , as if he actually cared about Damien’s improvement. There was also a twinge of fear, as if just saying anything might set Damien off.

 Damien didn’t respond; he just nodded while Pip pulled him back upright. 

 

“Alright, everyone!” Pip let go, leaving Damien to flounder. “Good first day!”

Everyone applauded in celebration, bright smiles on all their faces. Pip stepped offstage, turning around and holding out a hand.

“What are you doing?” Damien found his voice.

“Being a gentleman, something I could happily give you lessons over if you’re interested.”

Damien smirked at the sarcastic glint in Pip’s words. “Not a chance.” he lightly slapped Pip’s hand away and joined his coworkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we know the drill by now [heres](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSBkoEWDTEk) the chapter song ;3
> 
> i realized within editing this chapter that i accidentally referenced another popular dip fic but if anyone asks i *totally* did that on purpose; brownie points to whoever can guess what that fic is
> 
> if it feels like this chapter had an abrupt end, there was originally more to it. i decided to split things up and add the next section to the next chapter, mostly to make my job a tad easier and so the doc wouldnt end up being over 20 pages long


	8. Liberosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally reached the dancing portion of this story and OH BOY  
> since i dont explain the dances all the way through there are dance refs in the end notes!!

When Damien returned home, he didn’t come across Red or Nellie. He was fine with that, because he was _so tired._  

He didn’t leave the cafe until 10:30 pm; even though Pip’s lesson was only an hour long, nothing stopped the rest of his coworkers from keeping him a little while longer. Pip gladly answered more of Nichole’s questions and playing messageman between Kyle and David. Tweek was revelling in the jovial atmosphere, convincing everyone to be his dance partner to show off what he learned. When Damien eventually got his turn, he finally understood why Clyde was the base of the pair despite being shorter: Tweek _adored_ being lifted.

Luckily for him, Damien had enough upper body strength to carry his delighted partner and spin them around. The crinkle in Tweek’s eyes and loud laughter never failed to bring a warm smile to everyone’s faces.

The bright mood dampened a teeny bit when Damien didn’t come across either of his girls.

 

_Whoa._

 

_Okay._

 

_Backtrack._

 

_Hold on just a gosh darn minute._

 

Damien doesn’t have _‘_ _his'_  girls. He doesn’t _have_ anybody. That’s his general schtick. He belongs to no one and no one belongs to him. 

So what if disappointment planted in his chest when Red’s spot was empty. It was late anyway. It wouldn’t make sense for Red to work her magic if barely anyone was there to see her. 

Not seeing Nellie was unusual though, but that’s not reason for concern. Not one bit, Damien thought. She’s not obligated to be by her mailbox everyday or hang around the lobby or outside her balcony, watching over the streets and taking in the view, waving excitedly when spotting someone she knows. She’s not obligated to strike up conversation with Damien and ask how his day has been. He hates that sort of question anyhow. What difference does it make if she was an old lady with a memory problem and sweet disposition? Nothing. Nothing at all. Damien didn’t care. He has no reason to.

 

... _So why was he so miserable?_

 

He flopped onto the loveseat, limbs spread, and groaned. His emotions went through a rollercoaster today and now the ride has finally stopped. Rest was in order. Damien turned his head toward the radio.

 _‘Not today._ ’ Damien was not prepared for another ballad episode. He went through his night routine in silence.

As soon as his body hit the bed, he remembered something important: he has a day-off tomorrow. Upon realizing this crucial piece of information, he has felt more awake than he was all evening. 

God damn it.

Is this for real? How can this be possible? He was practically dragging his feet when walking home. The ballroom lesson took a lot more energy than he anticipated. Pip, in general, was a lot more than he anticipated.

What a fool he was, thinking merely talking to Pip would have been the difficult part. Damien let out a frustrated grunt, unable to drift his thoughts elsewhere. He thought for sure Pip was going to destroy him. Actually who was he kidding? Pip _did_ destroy him, but not in a way he expected. While he did get under Damien’s skin, there were moments. Subtle moments when Pip showed him the same warmth he shares with everyone else. Out of all the faces he made Pip pull, the soft smiles when he actually did something right stuck in his brain. Maybe Red was onto something

 

_Don’t worry so much over this Pip dude, alright? Just be nice to him for once and he’ll be impressed by your mushy charming side._

 

He half-grinned at the words. Damien wasn’t exactly his most charming today, but at least he didn’t lose his temper. 

 

_Who knows? Maybe after all this blows over you two could become good friends?_

 

Damien hummed. It was too soon to tell. He remembered all of a sudden that he didn’t even apologize. Damn. Was it too late for that? Maybe Pip has moved on from not having any jam.

 

Oh. That’s right. Damien still doesn’t have any jam either. 

 

_If jam is what you want, why don’t you just come to me!_

 

Hearing Nellie’s voice in his head just made him miss her even more. He didn’t even realize he missed her. _It’s only been one day_. He needs to get a grip. 

But he has considered her offer. He really does not want to make another emergency trip to the grocery store. He also needed a way to get back at Kenny, since this was all his fault in the first place.

Damien reached for his phone to write ‘get back at Kenny’ in his memos. Sometimes when Damien has to do something that he can’t get to right away, he writes it in his memos. It’s a good way of keeping track and it’s something he’s always done. His father was probably the most forgetful man in all existence.

For now his memo consists of _‘revenge on Kenny’_ and _‘jam from Nellie’._ He scrolled up and saw something else.

_Stoley twins from se_

It took Damien a good minute to remember what that meant. Those were the dancers Red talked about. He was suppose to write _Serendipity_ but then his mental torment struck. 

Nevertheless, he has agreed to watch these people dance. Especially if they’re so important to Red. Especially if they’re important for Serendipity.

Damien didn’t bother looking at the clock as he searched up the Stoley Twins. He knew he wasn’t getting any restful sleep tonight. Might as well make himself useful and finish something.

 

_______________________________________

 

The song has a slow start. It’s smooth yet flows easily within the beginning of Kevin and Esther’s choreography. They stomp to the beat, then pause. Their bodies continue to move to the music, percussion and all. Their legs move smoothly, but then they snap into place, one knee raised in the air, their bodies sideways toward the audience. Their heads turn and as the song picks up, their movements are more precise and technical. Their heads bob, arms sway and legs move in ways Damien has never witnessed before. The twins slowly make their way toward the audience, performing with such flair and precision it almost threw Damien off when Kevin walks away from the audience, leaving Esther to freestyle. They haven’t necessarily been in complete sync, even though their movements have been the same up until that point. They add their own flavor to them, making it easy to tell them apart. Kevin and Esther might be twins yet their individuality shines through. Kevin was more into adding extra gestures alongside his movements, while Esther remained more clear-cut and meticulous. 

After Esther did her own thing with swift shoulder pops and smooth leg transitions, Kevin stepped up and took her place. Kevin was more free-flowing with his mechanical movements but his technique was clear. Kevin claps and the pair joins together again in almost-synchronization, the music picking up. They hold their heads and bop in time, purposefully adding excitement with how slow and particular they’re moving. They raise their arms, rotate their hips, then switch places. They move together. Each movement with the beat. They slide and snap into place, until Kevin deviates from Esther and shuffles away with quick feet. 

Esther points to the audience and that’s when the chorus hits. Librarian Girl never felt so impressive until now, with Esther completely going ham, snapping and popping and rolling. She spins and ends up on the floor, Kevin making his way to the other side of the stage. He held a perplexed expression on his face while watching Esther freestyle and “appeared” to make the decision to entertain elsewhere. Once Kevin points to his side of the audience, Esther stops her dance and glowers at Kevin. Kevin clapped and rolled and swayed, capturing attention while Esther smirks on her side. After Kevin lowers his hand over his face and points, Esther decides to take over again and moves her arms in a quick, mechanical manner. Kevin immediately notices this and walks over to her, arms up as if questioning what the deal is. It wasn’t long until Kevin points at the audience on Esther’s side and performs his own robotic yet flowing movements. Esther strolls behind him, a rather annoyed look on her face while Kevin was milking this for all it’s worth, squatting and lifting his heel. Then he stood up and shared a determined gaze with Esther as they both ran the same direction and pointed at the audience, both of them calling for attention now. 

Then the music stopped. Until it came back on and the twins ran to the other side of the stage and pointed there. The music stopped again, and it played again. The twins reacted to this in their own way, until the last supposed pause, when they popped their chests together at Michael Jackson’s infamous ‘woo’.

 

Damien was, in every sense of the word, absolutely _astonished_. 

He had no idea _these_ were the kind of people that were going to show up at performance night. These guys were not just talented, they were dance _gods_ essentially. The Stoleys proceeded to walk to the side of the stage, Esther kicking up Kevin’s lost hat into his hand. They proceeded to grab hands and gently knock their heads together while the audience cheered for them. 

Their dynamic on stage was playful the entire time. It was abundantly clear these two were related and meant a whole lot to each other. 

 

Damien wanted to see more. More of the twins. More of Serendipity in general. If the Stoleys were absolute masters of their craft, what else did Serendipity have to offer? Damien gladly went down the rabbit hole, curiosity itching underneath his skin. His mind tried to conjure names of who else might be showing up at Wildflower. His memory failed him, but the Internet did not. A short video caught his attention, Telephone from Lady Gaga performed by Gregory Bellrose. 

Gregory. That was a name he heard before. Damien wasted no time clicking the video and seeing what this dude was made of.

 

The song was already halfway over when the video starts. Gregory jumps around and grins while there are cheers from several people. While the song builds up to the rap section, Gregory never stops moving. It’s as if he has energy he needs to let out in some way, shape or form. The rap finally begins and this man _performs_. There’s not a single moment of breath taken as he dances with passion and attitude. He doesn’t break eye contact with his audience, dancing as if it’s just for them. He swings his arms as he breaks out into a wide smile, a moment of non-practiced joy until his face becomes serious again and he dances with such precision and flawless technique, it’s downright _impossible_ not to look anywhere but at him. It’s clear that he knows his body, and he knows how to use it. It’s clear that not only does he know he’s doing well, but he’s enjoying himself. It adds a whole new level of excitement to his dance.

He struts his way to the side of the ‘stage’ until he spins and drops onto the floor with intense flair. The audience begins hollering as he hits the floor along with the music and rotates his arms, using his momentum to push himself upright. The last line of the rap is sung while Gregory moves his arms, legs and hips with perfect timing, his ending position not even lasting a second until he comes out of ‘dance mode’ and walks toward the people sitting in front of him. The last ten seconds of the video was nothing but noise as people yelled with adoration and Gregory makes his way over to someone and hugs them. 

 

Okay. So that was different. Unlike the Stoleys, who were more mechanical with their movements, this guy was a lot more contemporary. Wasn’t this supposed to be a ballroom dance studio? Damien went through the comments and learned that Serendipity was actually two studios. One more modern while the other more old-fashioned. The videos he watched were routines for either a competition or something made up just for fun; because Serendipity encouraged improv. How compelling. 

While Damien spiraled further into this dance rabbit hole, he occasionally saw videos with Pip in it. He keeps holding off from watching him, but he doesn’t know why. There were some videos where Pip was in the audience for only two seconds yet Damien spotted him everytime. Almost all of Pip’s cameos had him wearing that hat of his. Damien nearly hit himself in the face upon realizing that he’s keeping track of Pip’s hat wearing patterns.

He quickly clicks on another video, Pompeii by Bastille. The man performing this routine had a ridiculously long name, but his first was Baahir. 

 

The way he moves is… beautiful. Perfectly timed to the song, he alternates between quick jerks and slow, graceful movements, moving his arms and legs with such extreme precision before letting them flow smoothly with the song’s lyrics.

The way he can quickly shift his body, throwing it into a new position and stopping with pinpoint precision as if hitting a mold for that exact pose, reminds him a lot of the Stoley’s preferred style. But the way his limbs roll gracefully after, shifting and expressing, is similar to a dancer named Heidi. It was an amazing combination.

Even as the beat picks up and everything moves quickly, there’re still those moments where he suddenly stops and flows before his limbs are once again quick and jagged. There’s even a jump in there and is it even possible to jump in slow motion like that? Or maybe that’s just Damien’s perception.

He’s in a daze, completely transfixed by this guy’s dancing. It’s so coordinated, so calculated, and yet there’s a beauty in the way he knows and trusts his body to move just as he wants it to.

Baahir ends his dance with arms covering his face, dropping them to signify that his performance was over, yet he jumped and did some bobbing movement with his head and hands. Damien noticed a reoccuring theme with each and every single person he watched: they all _really_ love to dance. 

Baahir made his way to the crowd and there was Pip once again. Damien groaned, the guy was practically mocking him at this point. However, there was another person next to Pip, a lady with blonde hair. 

Damien didn’t really think much of it until he noticed another recommended video that featured Pip and that same lady. This one must be really old, because both of them looked like children. It was simply titled ‘Pip & Estella Rockin Robin’.

Damien took in a breath and slammed on the video without thinking. He figured maybe watching Pip dance as a child may be easier to swallow than as an adult. Serendipity dancers were skilled in all kinds of ways and Damien wasn’t ready to see that same level of skill coming from Pip. Not just yet. Hopefully this video might be a decent transition. Surely he couldn’t be _that_ skilled as a kid, right? 

 

Pip enters the scene with a fucking backflip and Damien knew he was screwed.

 

Not even the next five seconds can happen before Pip lifts Estella to perform a cartwheel. Despite Pip absolutely boggling Damien’s mind right now, there’s still another person to pay attention to. Estella performed the very same lifting trick with Pip cartwheeling. 

These two were a force to be reckoned with. 

Estella swings her dress with sass while Pip spins her around and lowers to the ground, one palm on the ground behind him until he stands upright. He and Estella rotate their arms to transition to the chorus, Estella’s arms in a teacup position while Pip is behind her, one hand grabbing her wrist and another on her shoulder. They move their legs so naturally to the music, it almost slips Damien’s mind that these steps are _planned_. You have to move a certain way in ballroom, whether that be how your feet are positioned and how you step, to how much arm movement is permitted. The description of the video said this was a Lindy/Jive combination, a rather exciting form of ballroom, but still ballroom nonetheless. 

Yet while watching Pip and Estella dance, it’s hard to tell that there were so many rules involved. They dance just as freely and as passionately as the other more contemporary dancers. Pip and Estella grab hands and Estella leaps in the air and.. wait was that a dip? No, they’re still clasping each other’s hands, but Estella was in a dip formation, her leg straight out for a second before standing upright and shuffling along with Pip. Just how much _training_ did these two go through together? 

Estella continued to make wild movements, her dress twirling around with every spin. Pip was also impressive and followed along with his partner all the way. As soon as Damien thought he could stomach this, Pip grabs Estella by the waist and lifts her back, making her backflip. 

And then he does that a **_second time_** **.**

Did they ever get tired? Damien felt exhausted just watching them. Yet they were clapping and kicking and stepping to the beat of the song with accuracy and style, wide smiles on both their faces. The trust they seem to have with each other was so simple and direct. You could tell from how easily they gravitate toward each other even when separated. The small smiles Pip throws when Estella spins with ease, the confidence Estella holds when she grabs Pip’s hand. They’re having fun with each other and that’s all that matters. 

Estella cartwheels and grasps Pip’s hand before leaping in the air, the tips of her shoes touching her flying hair. These tricks and jumps they perform look so easy, even though Damien knows just how difficult it is to even _step_ properly. Soon Estella twirls, Pip watching expectantly, until she stands on her hands, feet flying into the air until Pip catches them. He grabs Estella’s waist and flips her around, Estella landing on her feet then immediately lifting her foot back and holding an arm out. The pair spin together like tops, one arm around each other with the other outstretched.

Damien’s jaw drops when Pip lifts Estella and her leg is stretched out and nearly parallel with her body. She pirouettes while Pip is off screen, her dress still flapping wildly. Pip runs on screen and they both manage a no handed cartwheel at the same time. Estella lifts her leg again until Pip is behind her and lifts her up by the waist. Estella kicks her legs apart, doing the splits, landing on the ground for a split second until Pip carries her, Estella’s arm out and feet pointed. 

 

The video ends. And Damien is thunderstruck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevin & Esther [dance routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQDsaDk7dNo)  
> Gregory [dance routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MUZiaw8mh34)  
> Baahir [dance routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtWQPHTMrQE)  
> Pip & Estella [dance routine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NggxbMVHIbk)
> 
> yall know what serendipity means right? cuz that explains the improv thing like a metrafuckton
> 
> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!! after this chapter i will no longer have weekly updates  
> my birthday is comin up and im gonna be returnin to college very soon so imma need some time to adjust to everything  
> however!! i *will* make sure this story gets told
> 
> damien and i are similar in the way that we cant leave things unfinished ;3


End file.
